


A Dashing Custom

by Regency



Category: Are You Being Served?
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Humphries meets Mr. Right All The Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dashing Custom

                It was not too busy a day nor too slow.  Per the usual routine Mrs. Slocombe was preoccupied with latest exploits of her beloved pussy. It seemed it had gotten out for a night of rampant cavorting with a neighbor’s tom.  Mr. Humphries didn’t know if she had been truly worried or if she’d just gotten a bit jealous when she found out the truth of the matter.  He shrugged and smiled indulgently at a passing lady customer on her way to the lifts.  _Seems that the latter days of pussy_ _are more exciting than all the days of her life._ _Who knew?_

 

                He was continuing at the busy task of straightening the tie drawer when the lift doors parted to admit a very handsome and very clearly wealthy couple of Britons.  It was a man and woman of such impeccable taste that he could hardly comprehend their presence here in Grace Brothers.

 

                Don’t mistake Mr. Humphries. He did so love his employ but he knew they were no Harrod’s.  “It will shrink to fit with washing” was a well-worn saying of theirs that didn’t by any means conform to reality.  It did enough; it made the sale, but it did not make them an upperclass establishment.  These two beautiful people stuck out like Scots at a Bacchanalia.

 

                Captain Peacock was the first to approach.  “Sir and Madam, might I be of service you to this fine afternoon?”  The two great and terrible beauties shared an evocative look before going their separate ways.  The lovely slender lady in her brown tilted hat and her tweed peacoat toed down the stairs towards the ladies’ department where Mrs. Slocombe and Miss Brahms eagerly awaited her arrival.  Her companion, a man of most understated attractiveness, strode towards the gentlemen’s counter with his bound umbrella in hand.

 

                He was attired in a smart navy suit, tailored to the nines; broad across the shoulders, dark granite-colored buttons, and a metallic wine tie.  Black, shined shoes completed the look.  Mr. Humphries leaned forward in anticipation.  To him, it seemed that a very dull day was looking to become that much more interesting.

 

                “Mr. Humphries,” called Captain Peacock from far and away, “are you free?”

 

                Mr. Humphries gave a perfunctory inspection of his surroundings before trilling, “As a bird, Captain Peacock.”

 

                “Very well.  Sir, our Mr. Humphries will be glad to help you.”        

 

                _Only too glad_ , he thought and welcomed his new patron over with a flamboyant wave.  The gentleman tipped his neatly-coiffed head towards the positively inspired blonde.   Mr. Humphries went absolutely weak at the knees. Were it not for the counter, he might have tipped elbow over wing-tip.  Thankfully, he managed to pull it together.

 

                “Good morning, sir.  What can I do for you?”  _Hold your hand in mine until we die perhaps?_   He really had best master himself before he caused a scene.

 

                “I need a trench coat, preferably tailored. Something, I’m thinking, in black.  I have important deals to broker in the coming days and it is crucial that I make a positive impression on the opposition.”

 

                Mr. Humphries peered up adoringly at the fellow.  “I don’t think that will be a problem, sir.”  He made the foolhardy mistake of meeting the eyes.  They were a solemn set, of the deepest brown and flecked with gold.  _Oh dear me._   “You are quite impressive enough, I think, sir.”

 

                His flecked eyes seemed to smile themselves though his expression remained unmoved.  “And you—Mr.  Humphries, was it—have impressed me considerably already.” A faint smirk began.  “I think I’ll keep you.”

 

                Yes, Mr. Humphries did feel considerably like the floor had dropped from beneath him.  He thought it might have been his knees finally giving up the ghost altogether.  Who was he to question why?  As it was he ended up trapped in the arms of the very fetching stranger, on the floor behind the counter of Gentlemen’s Ready-Mades.  It was an unexpected continuation of his day, but he’d had far less pleasant ones to be sure.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be the start of a much longer story, but I lost the story when an old computer crashed and now that I've found it (years later) I can't remember what I'd planned. It stands alone decently, so I'll just leave it.


End file.
